


Ouija Board, Ouija Board

by perplexed (orphan_account)



Series: Smosh!Halloween 2k14 [2]
Category: Smosh
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, M/M, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 01:37:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2529227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/perplexed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From OTPPrompts on Tumblr: "Person A is a ghost who has been haunting a building for a long time. Person B moves in (dare, inheritance, wants to fix up the place- you pick)  Person A is delighted for the company, and tries to help out/protect B, even though B can’t see or hear them.  B eventually realizes that they’re not alone by stumbling across the record of A’s death.  B holds a seance to try to get in touch with A.  What happens next is up to you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ouija Board, Ouija Board

**Author's Note:**

> A little friendship fic for my mini-halloween fic run this year!

Anthony had discovered a few things since he died in 1998, the main thing being that the afterlife was long and tough when you were condemned to walk earth for the rest of days, but most of all it was boring when your home had been left to rack and ruin. You couldn’t even watch people talk anymore, and that was a bummer when, aside from a kooky medium who scared you that one time a few Halloween’s ago, no one had tried to contact you or taken any notice of your idle tapping on the stairs where you sat day after day.

It was sad watching your beloved childhood home get neglected as well. After his parents moved out, (the memories were too vivid, Anthony’s untimely death too fresh a wound,) Anthony had been left alone at the house. No one else had moved in, and he’d found it fascinating, actually, to watch nature reclaim his home to a point.

Before he died, Anthony never believed in ghosts, spectres or spirits. He didn’t think anything happened when you died, but it turns out that some people are whisked off to the after while others… Others are forgotten about by all but ghost hunters and mediums, and that’s if they were the lucky ones. The unlucky ones? They usually wandered for a while before settling down somewhere familiar out of a lack of better things to do. Eternity was a long time, after all, though Anthony had seen the old woman who used to pass by occasionally disappear in front of him - he just hoped that was her crossing over as it were, and not some kind of curse to another level of living hell.

The door creaked open, much to Anthony’s surprise, and a man around his age wandered in, followed by an uptight looking man in a suit. He walked down the stairs, old wood cracking as he went, to get a closer look. He’d learned early on that no one could see him or hear him, but they could hear when he tapped on things, or see when he moved things around, but that was exhausting at best and drained all his energy at worst, leaving him unable to walk or move or even breathe, (though that was redundant, it was a hard habit to stop. Anthony had tried, more than once, to stop ‘breathing’, much to the amusement of the aforementioned old lady who just laughed at him and told him she’d been breathing better since the day she died than most of her life, and that he should enjoy it.)

“The house is, uhm… In a state of disrepair.” Anthony realised then that the besuited man was a realtor of some kind, though he didn’t know why anyone would buy this house - his house - unless someone had dared them to.  
“I can see that, but I like a challenge.” The younger man reached up to brush a cobweb from his shoulder. Anthony smiled at him, forgetting that he was basically invisible for a second. His smiled faded when he remembered.  
He trailed around after the pair for a while before getting bored of the realtor’s, ‘Just the wood settling,’ explanations for the sounds Anthony tried to make and the talk of four beds and three baths over and over. His attention only piqued once more before they left when he was watching the pair at the door, shaking hands.  
“I’ll take it! It’s got a good feeling to it, despite its condition,” the stockier man said, beaming from ear to ear.

From that day forwards, Anthony could get no peace at all. People were coming in and out, ferrying bits of his home out of the front door, never to be seen again. They brought in shiny new furniture and replastered the walls too, before painting them or hanging wallpapers. Every day, the same stocky, brown haired man would come to the house and help out, doing most of the work himself with a little help.

Anthony couldn’t help but be a little fascinated by the new arrival - after all, he’d been alone for nearly sixteen years - and spent a lot of time following him around and trying to learn things about him. So far he knew that the stranger was called Ian, that he had a job as a ‘You Tube-er’, (whatever that meant,) and that he had a dog called Daisy that had taken a liking to Anthony.

Anthony was idly petting her one day when Ian bent down to do the same and remarked, aloud to no one in particular, about how cold that part of the house was. From then on, Anthony knew that Ian could, in some way, tell he was around, and that was… A comfort, almost. He’d almost wished for a medium to move in so that he could have conversations with them, but Ian didn’t seem to want to demolish his home, so he was happy enough he supposed. What was another sixteen years without someone to talk to?

He watched as his house changed around him. Some changes he loved, like the bathroom which had a clawfoot tub in it, or the kitchen with all its high tech gadgets, and some he hated, like the shade of blue that the living room had been painted. All in all, it could have been worse, though. Ian even salvaged some things that had once been his family’s, and that was nice. It was like Ian knew that Anthony was still around and giving him a sympathetic nod by keeping the faucet in a secondary bathroom or restoring a wingback chair his father used to sit in.

The first time Anthony took care of Ian was an otherwise unremarkable day. Ian sat down after dinner to watch some television, (Anthony had discovered a love for a show called Game of Thrones,) and lit a couple of candles to keep the room smelling sweet. Ian fell asleep, like he so often did, but Anthony worried himself sick about the candles. If they caught fire to something, there was nothing he could do about it at all - but Ian could. Anthony got up from his seat on the floor and patted at Ian’s face until he woke up. He got a few grumbles of ‘whysitsocold’ before Ian woke up properly. Anthony was pleased when he snuffed the candles out and went upstairs to sleep.

The second time, Anthony was just helping out, though it exhausted him to do so. Even moving a small glass from where Ian had left it precariously balanced on the edge of the counter while he was on the phone took all of Anthony’s energy. He ended up lying on the kitchen floor after moving it to the back of the counter, but he did have enough energy left to snigger when Ian ended up taking five minutes to find the glass again.

The third time was more serious, and what actually Anthony thinks what prompted Ian to eventually look into the possibility of ghostly goings on. Ian was up a ladder, loading boxes into the attic, when the leg of his pants got caught on the hinge of the step ladder. With no one else around, Ian was stuck - moving would leave him eight feet up, in the loft without a ladder, or likely worse. Anthony, using all of his might, tugged at the leg of Ian’s jeans until it was freed. He spent the rest of the night restoring his energy, but he thought it was worth it.

One day, Ian came home looking more dour than usual. He carried with him a small book with newspaper clippings slotted into it, and when he opened it, Anthony could see that they were all cuttings about his murder. He didn’t like to think on it too much, even after sixteen years it was still a raw memory, so Anthony didn’t linger to read for long.

The next week, Ian came back from work with a Ouija board tucked under his arm. Despite knowing that there was nothing bad waiting for Ian, trepidation carried over from his actual life still stuck around in Anthony’s mind. He wondered why Ian wanted to talk to him, if Ian even did, but he followed curiously and watched as Ian lit some candles and set the board up, the planchette pointing away from him.

“Is anyone there?” Ian asked softly. “I hope so, or I’m going to look dumb talking to myself…”

Anthony stood the other side of the table and slowly nudged at the planchette, finding it surprisingly easy to move around. He moved it to ‘yes’.

“O-oh… Okay…” Ian stopped to look at the piece of paper next to him. “Do you mean me any harm?”

Anthony quickly pushed the planchette to ‘no’. He had no reason to cause anyone harm, aside from the man who broke into his home and shot him when he defended his mother.

“Okay, good… I uh… Have you been doing things around my house? Did you free my jeans from that ladder?” Ian asked. Anthony slid the planchette back to ‘yes’.

Ian seemed nervous about the whole thing, so Anthony reached over and put his hand on the man’s shoulder, hoping in some way that he could feel it.

“Are… Are you touching my shoulder?”

Another ‘yes’.

“Okay… I um… I don’t have any other questions written down. I never thought this thing would actually work.” Ian laughed and flexed his fingers over the planchette. “Oh, right… Is your name Anthony? Anthony Padilla?”

Anthony moved the planchette away from yes and back to it again.

“I’m so sorry about what happened to you,” Ian said, and Anthony took a deep breath. He was tempted to slide the planchette to ‘good-bye’ but couldn’t bring himself to do it. “I guess I just want to ask one more thing… If I come back with more questions, will you talk to me again?”

Anthony smiled and nudged the planchette over the ‘yes’ again.

“Awesome. I guess, good bye for now?”

Anthony hesitated, then slid the planchette to good-bye.


End file.
